Warzone
by Joker and the Thief
Summary: Hiruma and Sena find themselves trapped in female territory. How will the men survive this Battle of the Sexes? Humor. Rated T for language. slight HiruMamo, slight SenaSuzu. Enjoy!


**A/N: A very random little one-shot to help kill the Writer's Block that's giving me Hell. Enjoy! Disclaimer: I do not own Eyeshield 21.**

**Title: Warzone**

**Rating/Genre: T/Humor**

**Characters: Sena, Hiruma, Mamori, Suzuna**

**Warning: Heavy language from Hiruma**

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Warzone

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For the long 16 years Sena has been alive, nothing was more dependable to him than football. And yes, it even proved itself more dependable to Sena than his Mamori-nee-chan. Football had taught him practically the basics of life. In some weird way, the foreign manly sport had taught him to stand up to what he believed in. It helped him when he gave up hope in something, it had gained him new and honorable friends, it helped him fight back against the most dangerous and sinister of people he crossed paths with. And, like Taki, football even helped him with Math problems at times. You could even say that football was something other than a sport for Sena; it was like an older-wiser being that stood watch over the young teenager's life.

But unknown to Sena, football had its limits; a certain stopping point or place to where it had no control over, and as the young football prodigy found this out, it had already been too late for him.

Adorned in a peach colored golf t-shirt and black slack combo with a quite "manly" looking pink sweater tied around his shoulders and hair gelled back, Sena sat on a flowery looking couch in the middle of a very cozy and nicknack-covered living room, looking on quietly as two very familiar females sat on the matching couch just opposite of a small coffee-table and jabbered on about the latest fashion and gossip about someone they're supposedly "friends" with.

As bad as the situation sounded now, Sena would've wished it was only this, because while he took the time to size up his sickeningly sweet surroundings, he was currently having to move away millimeter by millimeter from the insufferable heat radiating off the person also occupying the same couch as him. A very pissed off and murderous Hiruma Youichi.

Sena really didn't know whether to be more scared of knowing he wasn't going anywhere for a good few hours, or to be sitting _this _close to his devilish, psychotic captain that currently held the look of someone who could snap and shoot everything in a mile's radius...

...plus, Hiruma in a golf shirt with slacks was not a fun sight. It was like seeing a rabid Doberman in an outfit more suitable for a toy Poodle.

How he got into this situation, he'll never know. The only thing he can recall earlier in the day was Suzuna offering to double-date with a couple she was very good friends with.

She didn't mention that Sena knew the couple as well.

"Clucking hens."

Sena blinked himself out of his thoughts and turned to see where the whispered comment came from. Expectedly, it was Hiruma, who's agitated twitch of his lips made Sena want to duck for cover.

"Eh, huh?" Sena whispered back.

An irritated hiss was his reply, and he was ready to jump behind the couch. "Are you deaf, Fucking Pipsqueak? Can't you hear it?"

Sena thought about it for a while. What was he supposed to listen for? Chickens? There were no chickens around here. Was it something else he was supposed to listen for or was it that Hiruma-san's mind was already starting to shoot sparks and bolts? Hopefully not....

"...she came out with this hideous yellow dress. No one said anything, so I went up to her and told her as gently as I could that the dress just wasn't _her. _Then she--"

"OhmyGod, you said that!?"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"What'd she say?"

"Well, she said..."

A firm grip of realization that made Sena want to smack his forehead. So _that _was what he meant....

"Fucking clucking hens is all they are. Feh, I wouldn't be surprised if one laid a fucking egg."

Sena couldn't help but sigh to himself. Hiruma-san could be cruel with his analogies sometimes.

"Listen up, Fucking pipsqueak!" Hiruma hissed, bringing Sena in an upright position of alert.

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Hiruma, from his laid back pose with one leg thrown over the other one, leaned slightly to Sena's side. Sena did the same.

"This is fucking hell on earth. Guys like us? We don't belong here like this. It's...It's inhumane. Pure torture. And _they _know it. Them? They're not sweet and naïve females...they're _beasts. _Fucking beasts who take pleasure in our misery."

_'Why is this starting to sound like a war zone out of a sci-fi movie!?'_

"_Ahem."_

Both Hiruma and Sena snapped right into the earlier stick straight sitting positions, only to see two sets of glaring eyes.

"Something you wanted to share, Hiruma-kun?"

_'Oh no...I can't predict what's going to happen next! Poor Mamori-nee—no! Poor Hiruma-san!'_

He was waiting. Waiting for the single _chick_ of a gun loading, _swish_ of a broom that would be good enough of a warning to tuck and roll out the door for safety.

But to Sena's utter surprise, there was no roaring of a machine gun or the crisping heat of a flame thrower that would most likely melt every trinket and toy around them. There was also no broom handle being broken over a blond head or a mouthful of broom-hay. Instead, a blinding beam of light shown next to him, and it took all of Sena's power to look into it to realize that said blinding beam was a grinning Hiruma; a grin so _sweet_ and _tender _it was as if Hiruma-san had just been handed an original Winchester Model 1873 rifle collector's edition.

"Not at all, ladies. Please, continue."

Sena was pretty sure he'd have to collect his jaw from the floor.

Both boys waited for the chatting to continue before simultaneously breathing a sigh of relief.

"That was close."

"Y-Yeah..."

"Listen, Fucking Chibi." Hiruma-san's tone took on a more serious tone that put all of Sena's attention on him.

"I'll say this, and I'll only say it once; we're in a battle of the sexes, Fucking Chibi. A disgusting battle of life or death..."

_'Why do I have this feeling that my life's in danger?"_

"...Our options are small; If they don't bitch us to death, the estrogen atmosphere will cause our lungs to collapse..."

_'What!?'_

"The chances of both of us to escape are impossible, so as much as I dread to say, only one of us can get out alive..."

Only one? Sena gulped and looked at the floor with widened and fidgeting eyes. He had never imagined himself to die this way: ears exploding from the talk of the latest shoe styles and he-said-she-said cheating affairs, skin sizzling off at the very interaction of those hazardous chemicals such as Foundation and eyeliner, lungs burning and shriveling by every perfume-induced intake of air.

"...and that one will be you, Fucking Pipsqueak."

Sena whipped his head toward Hiruma. "Wha...?! H...Hiruma-san! What are you talking ab--"

"You're fucking legs of speed can carry you out that door in a heartbeat. I wouldn't even be able to make it to the fucking knob before they come after us. It's all up to you, Fucking Pipsqueak."

A painful knot had formed in his throat and Sena felt tears prick his eyes. Hiruma-san...a true man, a true soldier in defending his fellow man in the line of duty, a--

"How many times do we have to tell you boys that it is rude to interrupt our conversation!"

"Indeed. Hiruma-kun, Sena-kun, do you have anything you want to say?"

Before Sena could even do as much as blink, Hiruma cleared his throat and sat up straight, taking an unusually large breath.

_'Uh-oh...'_

"Actually..._ladies_...I do. First, Yokuzo from class 2 cheated on Sensuki with her twin sister Natsuki because she was a plain-as-day tramp. You can ask the entire Lacrosse team; I mean, anyone who flaunts around the field in a fucking 5-inch leather skirt showing her ass at every practice is obviously not a nun. Second, after you told Tsugisoshi Katame that the yellow dress wasn't her, she went home and burned every bright-colored outfit in her closet. Congratulations, Fucking Girlfriend, for making her walk around dressed like a corpse. And third, Fucking Skater here is obviously lying to you, Fucking Girlfriend; your nail polish does not match the half-off garage sale shoes that don't match the outdated Depressing-Red dress skirt that was in style 2 seasons ago."

There was an eerie, tension-filled silence that covered the whole room. Like the calm before the storm.

A war-cry like screech suddenly erupted, and the last thing Sena saw before he hauled ass out the door was a flurry of color and flailing manicured hands...and a devil's grin.

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END

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**A/N: I'm so sorry for that shitty ending, but I didn't know how to end it. And I just wanted to get it out of the way because I was running out of brain-matter to make it, haha! **

**Hope you all enjoyed this! Reviews of all kind are welcomed! :)**

**-Joker and the Thief**


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